Confessions
By SurferChick
A/N: Sark/Sydney!! This is a little piece from Sark's point of view right before the last scene in Rendezvous. Hope you enjoy!
D/C: I don't own anything in this story except for the plot. JJ Abrams, ABC, Bad Robot, and people who are luckier than me own them. Although if they wanted to be nice and lend out Michael Vartan to me, I wouldn't complain at all…
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She's beautiful.
I'd be lying if I said she wasn't. Her brown, or sometimes pink hair cascading down her back seems to shimmer no matter how little light reflects off of it. And those eyes, those eyes that I gazed into while she was singing.
Simply beautiful.
It was hard to keep my mind on track in Paris. With her singing, "I can't help myself, I'm in love with you," and Sloane's instructions pounded into my brain, it was almost too much to bear.
And she actually touched me. Slid her hand with about fifty bracelets on her wrist on my chest and off my shoulder. Sure, it was all part of the act. She was just trying to get to Khasinau. Figures. I'm just the pretty boy second in command. She doesn't care about me. She doesn't care about him, either, just wants his heartbeat.
And then she wants that heartbeat to stop forever.
I can't blame her. Not with her…personal connection to this case. I can't blame her, but I can't relate to her. My mother died when I was very young. I never knew her. Khasinau tells me that she was a good agent. I wouldn't know.
And then there's Sydney.
She spent a good amount of time picking up Khasinau's heartbeat. He enjoyed it. Quite immensely, I might add. He whispered something not so pure after she went back on stage. I kept my smile on, but on the inside, I wanted to hurt him. 'Stop looking at her like that!' I screamed, but no one heard. No one but me.
I think I'm falling in love with her, I think as I lay down here on the medical table. I'm having a blood transfusion. Like Sloane would think that I wouldn't think of this. I'm just getting him off my track, doing whatever is necessary to survive. It's what I do. It's what I've always done.
And now this. I can't fall in love with her. I can't fall in love, period, not if I eventually want to gain control of the K-Directorate. But an agent of SD-6…fraternizing with the enemy, that's what I'm doing. But it has never felt so…so deep, so meaningful.
I know I'll ultimately have to end up betraying her. That's the way it always ends up. I just hope that she understands.
What am I talking about? She won't understand. She'll hate me. She already hates me. She doesn't even know me. Not the real me, anyway. If I showed her the real me, do you think she would love me? Do you think she could possibly fall in love with a man like me?
Listen to me. I think I'm going crazy, talking as if there's someone out there listening, someone out there who cares. No one cares. Not Khasinau, not "The Man," not Sloane, not Sydney.
Not Sydney.
I sit up, sighing, knowing what I have to do. I quickly load my gun and go into the car. What I'm about to do will be the first step in betraying her, the first step in hurting her. I wish I didn't have to do it, but I can't raise questions. I'm too high up the scale to do that now, not now, not ever.
I stop my car for a moment at the airport and pause before getting out. I pack my gun in my jacket, I know it will bypass security.
I lean down on my steering wheel and ask Sydney for forgiveness for what I'm about to do.